


All The Life You Have Left

by signalbeam



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Birds, Castles, Community: badbadbathhouse, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, Infidelity, Jealousy, Princes & Princesses, The true self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signalbeam/pseuds/signalbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shadow Chie tends to the castle while Shadow Yukiko is out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Life You Have Left

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the badbadbathhouse prompt: _Shadow!Yukiko/Shadow!Chie. Shadow!Chie is stuck at the castle while Shadow!Yukiko flounces around the other dungeons. Shadow!Chie thinks (and is probably right) that Shadow!Yukiko is cheating on her. She becomes the paranoid prince/housewife._

The training room depressed Chie. The ceiling needed dusting, the floor painting, the plants weeding, and above all—

_thwack_

—the house needed its mistress.

The sandbag flew through the air, hit the wall, and exploded in a mess of dust and dirt. Prince Chie could hear Princess Yukiko’s complaint, the faint pressure of a chin on her shoulder and a voice crooning in her ear: _Oh, my prince, you’re so violent._

And why shouldn’t the Prince be violent? This morning the Princess had vanished into the wide open world beyond the castle. The Prince had never seen that world before, and didn’t care to ever go exploring. There was nothing out there, just shadows and portals that led to nowhere. There was no reason for the Princess to wander past the gates, and without the Princess, the castle fell into neglect. No, it was more that the castle became uglier without the Princess. So much uglier and disgusting, so much weaker without its crown jewel—

Never mind that. There were other bags. Not so many as there had been before, but there were plenty left, plenty and plentier still. The Princess made this room for her, but it wasn’t so much of a gift as it was a distraction. Princess Yukiko went gallivanting about the worlds purring about her new suitors and left the castle to her prince, as though the Princess thought Prince Chie would be too busy in _here_ to notice the new—additions (“The scientist was a woman, too,” said the Princess sadly one day with a new hat in her lap and soft bruises on her hips), or the Princess’ absence. The Prince wasn’t the collecting type, but if she were, than she would have liked to collect princesses the way that the Princess tried to ensnare princes. Princesses were harder to get. It was a fact written in ink: one princess, many suitors. Tens of thousands of men pine for the princess, and in every land there was only one. That was what made them so valuable. Unlike jewels or gold-bladed swords, princesses could be put to use (“Oh, yes, my prince, oh _yes_ ”—things like that, whispered into the night), could be molded with a few words or a few touches into a prince’s bidding.

Of course, there could only be one _true_ prince for the princess. Naturally. Wouldn’t want to go mistaking the princess for a whore, after all. That was why the Prince didn’t mind it when the Princess went out of the castle. At the end of the day, she was the only one, no one but her. The Princess would learn that one way or another. Let the Princess have her fun. The Princess was _hers_. And if the Princess thought to stray, well, let her stray. The Prince was the one who had the Princess’ heart chained to the dark, dank walls of the castle.

The Prince called for her spear, and, with the flat of the blade, made a sandbag spin about like a pendulum. This one was lighter than the others. The Princess prepared a few special bags in this room, filled with small birds that the Princess captured and never let out again. “Why would I let them go?” the Princess said to the Prince once, drowning a bird in a bowl of water without remorse. “It’s their fault for not flying away first, my—dear—Prince—”

The Prince hissed at the memory. The edge of the blade cut into the bag, and, at once, the birds sprang out, their wings beating wildly and voices straining against the wind. Suddenly, the Prince wanted to kill each and every one of them. Even if they attempted escape, she wouldn’t let them go, no, no; they were better off dead in here than alive out _there_. The birds perched on the bags and on the chains holding the bags up and on the windowsills, and sang small, shrill songs. Still more fluttered about in the air, bumping against the ceiling, brushing against the walls, and calling out to the world with their little mouths, singing and singing and singing.

The spectacle would have amused the Princess. The Prince swung her spear about, a slow, lazy arc that made the air cold. Or maybe it would have made the Princess’ pride grow smaller and fear stir again in her heart. It was fine with the Prince. She never liked animals, anyway, not birds or dogs or cats. She didn’t have the patience to deal with those things. They were so easy to break and so easy to tame, so obediently blind and willfully dumb. No challenge there at all. The Prince thought of things to do when the Princess returned, and had visions of chains and bars and hands pressed against a white throat; and so smiling, drew winter within her and cut it loose.


End file.
